


Meeting in the Middle

by DawnOfTomorrow



Series: A Time Apart [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Do-Over, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnOfTomorrow/pseuds/DawnOfTomorrow
Summary: Yuuri has finally started to accept that his old life is gone, and he is stuck back in 2014 and has to do things over. That wouldn't be so bad, if it wasn't for the crushing loneliness that hangs over him every day of his new life. He has to spend it without his husband, his version of Victor.A younger Victor barrelled his way straight into Yuuri's life, without a care for how Yuuri feels about it. In the end, that might just be what Yuuri needed.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: A Time Apart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605760
Comments: 108
Kudos: 280





	1. Chapter 1

Yuuri found the new reality he was living in quite… exhausting.

For the most part, that was his own fault. He had chosen to win the Sochi Grand Prix, had chosen to put himself at the top of the game, and thus, into the public eye. Honestly, he could deal with the media. Had been doing it for years, so no problem there.

The problem was… everything else in his life.

Phichit. Celestino. His family. Everyone, all the people who loved him… and who hadn’t expected him to skate like he had. Celestino had sort of bought his explanation of having trained secretly and having gotten very lucky.

Phichit knew he hadn’t been training secretly… so he had told him he switched anxiety meds. His friend didn’t buy that either, but he stopped asking. His family… well, he told them he trained extra hard. He had no idea if they believed THAT, but it still got them to stop asking.

Yuuri had never expected that being reborn in his younger self would involve so much lying to the people he cared about.

Speaking of people he cared about – Victor Nikiforov. Formerly his husband, the love of his life, the other half of his soul… he was also in Yuuri’s life again. It was probably the most painful thing about it all.

Seeing the man that had been his husband, but being the only one to remember their history… it was a constant ache. It didn’t help that this Victor was… different. Yuuri hadn’t realised that the way they had met had shaped their lives as much as they had.

In this reality, Victor was… annoying. Really annoying. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, ignored Yuuri’s requests for space, constantly called and texted and so on. It wouldn’t have bothered him so much if only he knew whether he liked the man’s behaviour or not.

Victor had made it quite clear that he thought Yuuri was the solution to his problems… and he had refused to talk about said problems. Not that he needed to – Yuuri knew, and Victor had no idea that he did.

It was all quite… complicated.

Paralysed by his feelings for the Victor he had lost, Yuuri had a hard time figuring out how to deal with Victor. He’d decided in Victor’s hotel room that while he couldn’t be the Yuuri that this Victor deserved, he would do his best to help him anyway.

That proved… difficult. For all that the Russian had made himself a constant presence in Yuuri’s life, he refused to participate in meaningful conversations, at least about himself. It was infuriating.

It was also what Yuuri spent most of his time on – trying to figure out a way past Victor’s fake smiles.

Preparing for Japanese nationals was, well, less of a problem. In fact, it wasn’t one at all. Even 23-year-old Yuuri would have had the skill to dominate the competition, and so, naturally, so did he.

He reduced his performances down to the bare minimum – one quad in his free, one in his short, and no more. There was only one other skater who had any quads at all in the Japanese circuit – he’d already made his point at the Grand Prix. He didn’t need to show off at nationals.

He did, however, plan to do so at World’s.

That was all good and well – the month or so between the GP and World’s he spent focusing on two things: Rounding out his hastily assembled GP routines and getting through to Victor. He was determined to help him… if only he could get through to him, really through.

Thankfully, Yuuri was perfectly happy to create opportunities to accomplish his goal.

So, he found himself in St. Petersburg, roughly a week before World’s. He was in a good mood for once – after having lived in Russia for so long, he was glad to be back, all things considered. Although he got weird looks – not surprising. Asian men speaking fluent Russian weren’t too common, as far as he knew.

Asian men fluent in Russian standing in front of the door of one Victor Nikiforov were even more of a rarity. Well, so he assumed. His Victor hadn’t spoken much about the time… the time before Yuuri.

He raised his hand and knocked on the brown wood door.


	2. Chapter 2

Seeing Victor again in person was… emotional.

For both of them, it seemed. It had taken mere seconds for the Russian to open his door – no doubt, he’d been petting Makka directly behind it. Indeed, a second later said poodle barrelled past Victor and slammed straight into Yuuri.

He’d expected it of course and caught the excited dog before she could knock him over.

Seeing Makka… Yuuri fought back a few tears. He hadn’t seen Makka in a long time – she’d been old when he and Victor had met in his timeline, and after a few more years…

He bent down and whispered the sweet endearments he used to tell her… years ago. Makka reacted the same way she usually did: Extremely enthusiastically.

Yuuri indulged himself for a few moments before remembering his original purpose – Victor. The man was leaning against the doorframe, gaping openly at him. He straightened up and ran a hand through his hair to neaten it a little.

“Hi…”

“Yuuri… wh-wha? Why are you here?”

He chuckled.

“To visit you. It’s closer to fly from here to World’s than it is from Detroit you know.”

To his surprise, instead of inviting him in, Victor stepped out of the flat and closed the door behind himself.

“You, uh, speak Russian?”

“Fluently.”

“Wow! I didn’t know that!”

“Really? We spoke Russian in your hotel room. You don’t remember?”

“No, I didn’t realise it was Russian. I was very drunk.”

“Fair enough.”

Victor made a noise low in his throat – Yuuri had no idea what it meant.

“Would you like to come inside?”

Yuuri chuckled.

“Sure?”

To his surprise, Victor stiffened a little. Truth be told, Yuuri had expected a… warmer welcome.

“Uh… yes.”

Though he was clearly hesitant to do so, he invited Yuuri inside. The inside of the flat didn’t look like what Yuuri had expected. He’d been there, of course. He’d LIVED there. He hardly recognised the place.

It was… messy.

While it wasn’t dirty, it was clear that none of the things in the flat really… belonged anywhere. Out of habit, Yuuri headed straight to the kitchen, accompanied by Makka.

“Why don’t we talk over tea?” Victor suggested, passing Yuuri to reach for a cabinet.

Tea was good. Yuuri liked tea. Victor liked tea. It was a start.

It took a few minutes until they were sitting on Victor’s couch, a cup of tea each.

“You… came to visit me.” Victor remarked.

“Yes.”

“I’ve… I’ve been suggesting training together. Is that why you came?”

Yuuri sipped his tea. It was true – Victor had indeed commented on the possibility of training together. It was the last thing Yuuri wanted to do – sharing ice with a Victor that wasn’t his? No way.

“Yes.”

“I see. I’ve really improved my routines you know.”

“It won’t matter. It’s not enough.”

Victor huffed.

“We’ll see about that. I haven’t had to work hard for a win in a long time… but I AM going to win World’s.”

“Victor, you’re a fantastic skater, but you can’t defeat me. I told you at the Grand Prix.”

“If you’re not here to check out the competition, then why bother coming?”

He huffed.

“Skating isn’t everything, you know?”

That was a lesson that Victor hadn’t learned until he was much older. He was hoping he could convince this Victor of that as well.

“Yes, well, it’s what we do. We are skaters.”

Yuuri sighed.

“Yes, I am a skater. But I’m more than that. Aren’t you too?”

An expression of hurt flickered across Victor’s face for just a moment. He opened his mouth, but before he could respond, a knock on the door interrupted. Whoever it was didn’t bother waiting for a response – they came straight inside.

Yuuri recognised the voices of Victor’s two guests straight away. Yakov and Yuri Plisetsky. A wave of emotion nearly as powerful as the one that had swept over him the first time he’d seen Victor caught him. The Russians were bickering – something about rink times.

He fought to keep a calm, polite expression on his face as he turned around.

The sheer surprise on both Yakov’s and Yuri’s faces made his pain a little more bearable. They looked quite… funny.

The stalemate of silence only lasted for a moment, before his younger namesake practically screeched.

“Hi, Yura.” He greeted the teenager, amused by his countenance. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, his namesake never really grew out of his attitude, though he did… soften somewhat.

“You… know me?”

“Of course I do. Junior Grand Prix winner. Next year you’ll be in seniors, right? I’m a big fan of your skating.”

His words shut the teenager up completely.

“Yakov! Yura. What is it?”

“We came to check on you. You can’t keep ignoring my calls.” Yakov growled. “And now this? How long have you been here, Katsuki?”

He smiled at Yakov.

“For a few minutes, no more. I’ve come… well, Victor invited me to train together.”

“I doubt there is much you can learn from Victor given your recent performances, Katsuki.”

The rejection stung but it wasn’t unexpected. Yakov Feltsman was highly protective of his skaters, always had been. However, he also liked to see them work hard.

“Maybe Victor can learn something from me? I do have all the quads.”

A very pregnant pause later, Yakov huffed.

“You skaters are more trouble than you’re worth. Fine. You want the idiot? Take him. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

With another grunt, he grabbed a gaping Yuri by the (leopard-print) collar and practically dragged him away. Yuuri was left with Victor again. Alone.

He drank some more of his cooling tea.

“Well, _Coach Katsuki_ , it seems I’m in your capable hands.” Yuuri didn’t miss the barely masked annoyance in the other man’s voice – he hadn’t planned for things to go this way, but he was rather used to that by now.

He hummed, still thinking about how to play the hand he had been dealt.

“So, what’s the first step in your training regiment, given that you’re apparently going to teach me your quads?”

Yuuri chuckled into his cup.

“The first thing we are going to do… is take Makka for a walk.”


	3. Chapter 3

The walk Yuuri led Victor on was one familiar to him. He had walked it dozens if not hundreds of times with his husband and their Makka, before they had moved to their house further from the centre.

He confidently led this younger Victor on the same route. It was surprisingly good weather – well, it was horribly cold, but that was a given. The lack of rain, snow or sleet was a godsend. Yuuri knew Victor was confused, but he also noticed how easily the man relaxed on their journey.

It was when he got back that things got more… complicated.

Yuuri didn’t have a place to stay – he hadn’t needed a hotel in Russia… ever, really. Well, outside of competitions. Even then, he hadn’t been the one to pick it. Either his coach or Victor had.

As it was… well, he found himself sleeping on Victor’s bed. Alone.

It was… odd. Especially when despite Victor’s protests, Makka joined him on the bed, Yuuri fell into a restless sleep. His host was sleeping on the couch, despite Yuuri’s protests and insistence that he take the couch instead.

Victor insisted that either they share the bed, or Yuuri take it. Sleeping next to Victor was… not an option.

Too painful. Too many memories.

He just couldn’t, even if he felt bad sending the other man away.

Of course, that made it all the more confusing when he woke up with a warm body pressed to his back. For a long, blissful moment he thought that maybe… maybe he was back in his own world, that it had just been a horrible nightmare. Then… then reality set in.

The man sleeping with him wasn’t his husband, and it hadn’t been a dream.

He took a few deep breaths before resolutely rolling away and breaking Victor’s hold on him. Yuuri didn’t wait to see the expression on Victor’s face, nor did he care for the explanation the other man no doubt had.

He knew it anyway. While Victor wasn’t exactly a sleepwalker, he often did things half-asleep… no doubt, he’d gone to bed as he was used to.

Yuuri fled, pulled his clothes on and left the flat.

He went to pick up breakfast for them both – it was a good excuse, and it gave him space. When he came back, well, Victor was still in bed. He served the breakfast – blini, a favourite of both of theirs, and fixed a cup of tea for both of them.

He put jam in Victor’s the way he knew the other man liked it and went to knock on the bedroom door. Indeed, not long after, a sleepy Victor stumbled out and sat in his usual spot at the table – opposite of Yuuri.

He watched as the man drank his tea and ate breakfast. He himself struggled to force down more than a few bites… but that wasn’t unexpected, exactly. He was dealing with… a lot.

Breakfast seemed to wake his companion up a fair bit.

“What’s on the training plan for today? Are we actually going to skate?”

“Absolutely. Do you have your skates?”

“Of course.”

“Great. I’ll call a cab.”

He took his phone and dialled the number for a familiar car service.

“Uh… you may not know this, but the rink is only a few minutes from here?”

Yuuri grinned.

“Not the RIGHT rink.”

Ignoring Victor’s confusion, he called and ordered a car for them.

His restless night had given him an opportunity to come up with a plan – or, at least, the beginnings of one. It was how he ended up taking a mostly silent cab ride with Victor and their skates across the city… to another rink entirely. One Yuuri had been to a few times, but not in this reality.

It was quite amusing to him how Victor got more and more confused with every step they got closer to their destination. He couldn’t blame him. A public rink late in the morning wasn’t exactly what Victor was used to.

It was, however, the perfect place for them to be. Yuuri knew that they taught kids classes there in the mornings – that day was no exception. Skates on, and with permission from the confused owners, they joined the 10-14 age group.

Well, Victor did. Yuuri mostly held back and… observed. The kids were beyond excited to meet Russia’s hero, and Victor… well, he happened to know that Victor had a soft spot for children, and for teaching them. Yuuri had seen it often enough, and had enjoyed it too – he was weak for men that were good with children.

It took a little while, but halfway through teaching the kids in the class how to skate backwards, Victor laughed. Really laughed. For the first time since Yuuri had met him, really. It was painful… and a relief.

His methods were improvised, yes, and he hadn’t the faintest idea what he was doing, but that smile proved that he was getting closer… closer to something.

Something nameless that he knew he had to reach if he wanted to keep his promise to himself about helping Victor.


	4. Chapter 4

Teaching a horde of excited skaters was… exhausting. Their time was split between showing the kids moves and jumps at their requests and correcting their own skating. Their actual instructor – a middle-aged woman that just gushed over having Victor there – was more than happy to let them help.

He hadn’t ever really taught a group of kids before – his and his husband’s skating pupils had always been very limited in numbers. Two or three per season, at most. Yuuri counted sixteen excited teens, and by the time they were sitting in the cab back to the flat, Yuuri was exhausted.

He felt like he was approximately eighty by the time they were back in Victor’s living room. He hadn’t even come close to exhausting himself skating, having only done a dozen or so jumps, but the exuberant energy of the kids, watching Victor…

Yuuri Katsuki was exhausted.

He fell asleep on the couch in the time it took Victor to make them tea.

It was a little disorienting to wake up somewhere… else. In the darkness, it took him a moment to realise that he was in Victor’s bed again – alone, this time. The blinds were drawn and he had no idea what time it was, so he simply pulled on a fresh t-shirt and went looking for his temporary flatmate.

What he found in the living room was… surprising.

Victor was cleaning. No, not cleaning… tidying, Yuuri corrected himself. Practically all of his belongings were sitting on or around the couch. Shelves had been wiped, the bottom ones already filled with books, magazines, the odd box.

“What… are you doing?”

“Ah, Yuuri! You’re awake! I’m just… well, I wanted some change.”

He nodded.

“Do you also want some help? That lamp would look great over there.”

He picked up the floor lamp and carried it to a corner – where his Victor had kept it.

“Wow! That’s perfect Yuuri! What about these pictures? I never got around to hanging them…”

“Why don’t we sort through your magazines next?”

“Sure! You start with those while I hang up these jackets.”

They worked not in the uncomfortable silence Yuuri had come to expect, but with pleasant chatter to keep them occupied. Yuuri asked about some of the magazines, Victor asked about Japan.

Yuuri talked about his favourite food, Victor told him about the changes he was making to his routines for World’s. It was… fun. He enjoyed himself, more than he had expected. Maybe more than he should have, but in the agony that had been his second life so far, he couldn’t deny himself at least that much.

By the time the sun set, they were both exhausted and went to bed – well, Victor went to the couch. Come morning, Yuuri was relieved to find himself alone in the large bed… he refused to accept that he also felt a pang of disappointment. It was just his loneliness talking, he knew.

Unable to put it off any longer, he took Victor to Yakov’s rink. He had hoped to not have to skate with the man, but with World’s approaching in just days, he also couldn’t justify not training or practicing at all.

Plus, it gave him a chance to interact with someone else he missed dearly – Yuri Plisetsky. He’d brought the teenager some gifts. One of Yuuri’s few bags contained a shopping bag filled with leopard-print things – a hideous sweater he’d bought in Detroit, a phone case to replace the battered one Yuuri had seen him use, and a pair of skate guards he may or may not have had commissioned and overnighted to him before leaving.

They had been pricy, but with his winnings from the Grand Prix, as well as the new sponsorship deals that had floated in, he was, for the first time in this reality… not broke. So, shopping and skate bag in hand, he and Victor walked to the rink in the morning.

Unsurprisingly, all the others were there already – they had gotten up fairly late.

Yuuri was equally unsurprised to find that his namesake had been waiting for them near the entrance (“Just a coincidence, don’t think you’re special”) and had enjoyed the vitriolic comments the young Russian had made before finally handing him the bag (“Just to hold onto for a bit”). He knew how to deal with Yuri’s spite, after all.

Stepping onto the ice at the rink for the first time was surreal. Hearing Victor step on it behind him was… just as bad. Not as bad as everyone’s eyes on him – strangers, at least as far as they were concerned.

He didn’t even bother trying to figure out the mess that was his feelings at that moment. Instead, he focused on Victor. The man’s carefree attitude that he’d caught glimpses of the days before was mostly gone. He wasn’t tense, but he seemed distant – like he wasn’t all there.

Yuuri steeled himself.

“Why don’t we practice your steps for a while?”

“My… steps? I thought you were going to teach me quads.”

“Mh, your jumps are always great.”

“Are you implying my steps aren’t?”

“I’m implying they could be better. Let’s start with your free program.”

Next came the most gruelling two hours of his life. Victor was a bossy, demanding and petty coach, as he was well aware… and he was a snarky, sulking student. Not Yura-snarky, but certainly in the same ballpark.

He’d never gotten to teach his own Victor – it was surprisingly fun. He couldn’t help but imagine what his husband might think if he could see what Yuuri was doing.

Once Victor had tired himself out, Yuuri decided to practice his own routines. His step sequences were much better than Victor’s, and as always, he focused more on training his jumps. He jumped quad after quad after quad until his thighs burned and his knees ached.

He only stopped when he realised that he was getting close to the point where he might injure himself.

That just wouldn’t do – he was still planning on winning World’s after all, and even he couldn’t do that in a cast.

He couldn’t risk it, even if the burning in his legs felt a little like relief.


	5. Chapter 5

World’s approached fast.

With Yuuri staying in Victor’s place and them spending so much time together, it seemed to approach even faster. He used every opportunity to suggest activities other than training together. It was easy to find things to do that his Victor had loved – obscure coffee shops, a vintage car museum… He really liked seeing this version of Victor discover himself again.

Of course, it had to end, and fairly soon – there had only been a few days for them to spend together after all.

They shared a flight – of course. Yuuri was beyond relieved when they ended up a seat apart, with Yura in between them. Naturally, the teen refused to swap seats so he wouldn’t be subjected to Victor being disgusting again.

He’d never been more grateful for the teen’s meddling.

He didn’t see much of Victor during the lead-up to the event.

That was… fine.

Yuuri focused on his own skating. He knew that he would win again – he’d seen Victor practice, and although the man was good, he wasn’t anywhere near Yuuri’s skill level. Certainly not after he’d had time to polish his new routines, and certainly not when he was well-rested and itching to compete.

Winning World’s had once seemed like such a challenge, a desperate desire that had driven his whole career… now he was all but guaranteed to win and it felt empty.

Of course, it was still possible for him to make mistakes. He was by no means immune, and his routines were extremely challenging, but there was something on the line – not for him, but for Victor.

Bizarre as it was, he needed to defeat this version of Victor to help him, Yuuri was absolutely sure of it.

It proved to be, well, easy. He was a comfortable two points ahead of Victor after the short, and despite the man’s sulking and promises that he would catch up in the free, Yuuri knew better. Chris and the other skaters were far behind, though interestingly it was JJ that managed to get the third spot this time.

The morning of the free came, and in what seemed like a parody of the Sochi GP, Yuuri went last. Victor’s score was high. Higher than it had been, higher than the one he’d won the first GP with. Not high enough to take back his record from Yuuri.

Stepping out onto the ice to perform his revised routine, he knew the outcome before the music started.

Thirty-two minutes later, Yuuri stood atop the podium as the newly reigning world champ. He’d been pleased actually, with his performance. It had flowed perfectly, and he’d done better than in practice. It was a performance he was proud of, and this time the judges scored him fairly. He beat Victor by almost three points, despite him also beating his personal best.

Standing on the top spot of the podium, looking down at Victor, Yuuri expected… well, he expected several things. Congratulations maybe, another challenge. A compliment, or even a declaration of war.

What he hadn’t expected, hadn’t been ready for, was the expression in Victor’s eyes.

It was one of pain – of despair, of loneliness, of everything wrong in the world. It nearly knocked Yuuri off the podium with its intensity… then the moment passed and Victor smiled out at the crowd.

Yuuri’s head was still spinning by the time he got back to his hotel room. He tried getting in touch with Victor, but the other man refused to take his calls, to accept his texts, to open the door of his room, even.

He tried contacting Yakov – the Russian coach fared no better than he did. The next morning – the exhibition skate – Yuuri skated Victor’s free, and Victor… didn’t show up. According to the commentators, he’d excused himself over a twisted ankle, but Yuuri knew that wasn’t true.

He was slowly gathering his resolve to bodily break down Victor’s door when, even after his fifth or so attempt to knock, the man didn’t open. Naturally, at that precise moment, Victor finally changed his mind and unlocked the door. He didn’t open it all the way – just enough for Yuuri to see that Victor looked like hell.

“Can I… come in?”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to make sure you’re okay? You didn’t skate your exhibition.”

With a huff, the man disappeared into the hotel room. Since he didn’t slam the door behind himself, locking Yuuri out, he decided to follow. The room, he discovered, was dark. Victor hadn’t turned the light on at all, he was stumbling through near-complete darkness.

“Victor… what’s going on?”

He switched on one of the desk lamps, bathing the room in a low orange glow. Victor, he found, had sat down on the bed. Yuuri followed suit.

“I didn’t win. I LOST.”

“You didn’t lose, you came in second.”

“You beat me.”

“I… yes? I’m… not going to apologise.”

Victor barked a laugh.

“No, you shouldn’t. You skated beautifully. I watched your performance, it was breath-taking. The problem… is me. None of this is right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go!”

For a chilling moment, Yuuri thought that maybe, just maybe, Victor had remembered their shared past, that he too knew the timeline was all wrong… but he shook off the thought, The other man couldn’t remember what hadn’t happened to him.

Whatever was upsetting Victor, it was something else.


	6. Chapter 6

“Victor, please talk to me. I’m worried. Yakov was worried too, you’ve been holed up in here since the ceremony.”

“This is all WRONG! I was supposed to win. I trained, I worked hard. Yuuri, I actually tried! I haven’t had to try in years.”

“And… you came in second. Your skating was beautiful. I loved watching you.” It was the truth – he always had, and always would, no matter the timeline.

Quite suddenly, Yuuri found Victor standing in front of him, his hands on his shoulders too tightly. The man bent down so that their eyes were level, inches apart.

“Yuuri, I had a plan. A motivation. It was something that actually made me WANT to skate. But now… now… I didn’t stand a chance. My plan wasn’t worth anything.”

Yuuri gulped, his hand sneaking to Victor’s fingers on his shoulder.

“What plan? What…”

“I was going to win gold, and then I was going to kiss you on the podium.”

Yuuri froze – he was fairly certain even his heart may have stopped beating for a few moments.

“Kiss… me?”

“Yes. I was going to confess to you. And I wanted to do it from the top of the podium. I wanted to prove myself worthy to you. And now… now I’ve failed.”

He was left speechless by what he was hearing. He hadn’t… wanted this Victor to develop feelings for him. He couldn’t return them, but could he reject him? How? His fingers tightened on Victor’s.

“Victor… you can’t love me. I mean, you… I… You don’t even know me!”

The other man gave a bitter laugh and stepped away.

“No, you’re right, I don’t really know you. But… you know me. Yuuri, you UNDERSTAND me. You know things, things you can’t possibly know. You know how I take my tea. That I put jam in it, always apricot, never cherry. You know where I sit at my breakfast table. You know that I keep my skate bag by the door. You put your shoes further to the side so there would be space for the bag, without ever even having seen it sit there.”

The man paused for breath, and Yuuri felt tears well up. He hadn’t… hadn’t realised he’d done things like that.

“Yuuri… everything you suggested, every activity, day out, it was all things I liked. Things you couldn’t have known that I liked!”

“Why… why not? I’ve… been your fan for years.” It was the best excuse Yuuri could think of. He prayed to any god that would listen that Victor wouldn’t think to question it, would just accept it as the quirk of a fan who named their dog after him.

“NO!” Victor’s voice was too loud and he spun around, pacing up and down in the small room.

“No! I know it wasn’t just that, Yuuri! You know how I know?”

He mutely shook his head, dumbstruck by the sheer emotion ravaging the other man.

“Because _I_ didn’t know, Yuuri! I’d never skated with kids like that, just for fun. It’s been YEARS since I walked Makka like we did! I’ve never gone to a car museum, and I didn’t know that I liked stir fry with pineapple until you made it for me! Don’t you see it? Yuuri, you’re _perfect_! You knew things about me even I didn't know. And when I tried to match you, so that I could meet you on even ground, I failed!”

Yuuri felt himself choke up, tears flowing down his cheeks already.

He’d had no idea about how the other man felt, or of the fact that he’d noticed all those small things. Yuuri knew him, of course, he did – he’d spent years with his Victor. How could he not know small things like that? He just hadn’t realised that he’d inadvertently slotted himself into Victor’s life like he had.

“V-Victor… I…”

“You made me want to actually live in my flat, instead of just sleeping there. You made me want to skate again. You… Why, Yuuri? And how? I want to know. I deserve to know.”

He did.

He did deserve to know.

Yuuri couldn’t tell him.

But maybe, he could give him something else.

“Victor… I… the things we did together, I suggested them because I wanted to show you something. I had a plan too. And… to complete mine, I had to defeat you here. I didn’t know… any of what you were feeling.”

A heavy silence hung between them for a few moments.

“Show me something?”

Yuuri straightened up. He hadn’t intended to be direct, and he certainly hadn’t wanted to be, but he had very little choice, backed into a corner.

Taking a deep breath, he stood, to be a little closer to eye-height with Victor.

“Yes. I could tell that you were… struggling. We’d become friends, and I wanted to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Victor. You know you’re an amazing skater, right?”

The Russian flicked back his hair and huffed. Well, of course he knew.

Yuuri cleared his throat.

“Do you also know that you’re an amazing person outside of skating?”

“I… what?”

“I said, do you know that you’re an amazing person?”

“I’m…”

He watched Victor stumble back until he backed into the desk in the corner.

“Yuuri, I don’t understand.” Victor’s voice was barely a whisper, almost a plea.

It was probably the saddest sound he’d ever heard.


	7. Chapter 7

“You, Victor Nikiforov, are an amazing person. I don’t mean your skating, I mean who you are off the ice.”

“I’m nobody off the ice.”

The answer was a reflex, the first thing Victor could think of saying.

It nearly broke his heart.

“You are everything, whether you skate or not. Whether you win or not. I wanted to show you that… and for that, I had to beat you.”

Victor made a noise, low in his throat, and Yuuri realised that he still wasn’t quite getting through to him.

He had to though. It had taken him almost a year with his Victor, and even longer until he’d realised that he’d done it at all. This time, he was aware. This time, he’d wanted to do it, to help. To free Victor from his pain. He couldn’t be his lover, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still help.

He owed it to Victor Nikiforov – to any and every Victor Nikiforov.

“Yuuri, I…”

Instead of speaking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the taller man. Victor practically melted into his hold, clutching to Yuuri as if he was about to drown. He hated seeing the other man suffer, but he’d had to do something, hadn’t he?

He had no idea how long they held each other like that, but eventually, it was Victor who let go first. Yuuri didn’t try to hold him, he simply let him pull back. The hurt, vulnerable expression from before was still there, but it wasn’t as… strong as it had been before.

“Do you really think I’m an amazing person?”

“I do.”

“Then… do you want to be… more than friends, maybe? I’d like that. My confession may not have gone as planned, but I do have feelings for you. I've never felt like this about anyone.”

Oh.

That.

Yuuri had successfully managed to panic his way into forgetting about that part.

“Victor, you-”

“Please don’t.”

The Russian shuddered.

“Can I at least know why... you can't?”

Every fibre of Yuuri’s being wanted to tell him, wanted to confess, to free himself of the burden that was his secret, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t put that on Victor who was already in a bad place… not to mention, the other man would probably think he was insane anyway. Probably…

“There is someone else.” He blurted out.

“Someone… who? You never said anything?”

Mentally cursing himself, Yuuri shook his head.

“No, I haven’t. I… he’s not around. Anymore. But I still love him. I’m sorry Victor.”

For a few moments, silence reigned between them.

“Were you together? How long?”

Yuuri smiled softly, thinking about the time he’d had with his Victor.

“Almost 16 years.”

“Aren’t you only 23? Were you childhood sweethearts?”

Wincing – why did he have to run his mouth like that? – he nodded.

“Yes. I fell in love with him when I was very young.” That was, at least, not a lie.

“Fair enough. I suppose I never had a chance then?”

No.

“It’s not like that… I…”

Victor waved him off.

“No, it’s fine. I get it. You don’t owe me anything. Is he… coming back?”

Yuuri winced again – the words from Victor’s mouth hurt.

“No, I’m afraid not. I lost him… just before the Sochi Grand Prix.”

Victor’s gasp was accompanied by another hug – the man was babbling his condolences, apologising to Yuuri for burdening him there, praising him for skating with a broken heart… Yuuri held on to him, letting the words wash over him.

It felt fantastic to have someone know about his pain, even if it was just a half-truth.

When Victor let go this time around, Yuuri noticed the faint tracks of tears on his cheeks. He stopped himself from wiping them away – it wasn’t his place. Not here, not with him.

“I’m sorry for pushing my feelings onto you, Yuuri. I should have been a better friend than that.”

He immediately shook his head.

“No! No! You’re a great friend, really. I’m sorry that I can’t… reciprocate.”

Victor cleared his throat.

“I would… I’d be willing to wait for you. If you want. I meant every word I said, Yuuri. I really do think you’re perfect.”

He let his eyes fall closed so that the man wouldn’t see the expression there.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get over him. He was… my soulmate.”

Victor made a soft noise that made him open his eyes and look at the other man again.

“That sounds wonderful. I hope I’ll have that someday.”

Yuuri forced himself to smile.

“Yeah… I’m sure you will. Someday. You deserve it.”

An uncomfortable silence hung between them again – Yuuri knew it was mostly his fault, of course. The other man hadn’t done anything wrong, but Yuuri still felt like he was betraying his own Victor, somehow.

Between that and his feeling that he was failing the man he was now, his head was spinning with guilt, regret, and the desperate loneliness that he felt whenever he thought of the man he lost.

Yuuri was still fighting tears when Yakov knocked on Victor’s door to fetch them both for the banquet a little later.


	8. Chapter 8

The banquet at World’s was a carbon copy of the one at the GP, Yuuri found. Same people, same boring chatter, different wallpapers, and different ties. He was also just as miserable.

After Yakov had guilt-tripped them both into getting dressed and going to the banquet, they had both painted themselves into a corner and were nursing champagne.

Victor’s polite smile was nearly identical to his own – it appeared when officials or other skaters approached and disappeared when they did.

His only relief was the fact that despite their earlier problems, Victor still seemed to seek out his company. He’d feared the man would avoid him, but apparently, he hadn’t given him enough credit.

Victor wasn’t avoiding him, and he also hadn’t said anything else on what they had been discussing earlier. It was almost as if it never happened… except that Yuuri remembered it.

He was sick as hell of remembering things that ‘didn’t happen’.

The thought made him smile – or maybe sneer. He wasn’t sure.

“What’s on your mind, then?” Chris Giacometti asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulder out of the blue. He hadn’t expected the other man. Victor had just gone off to get himself another glass of champagne.

“Oh, nothing really.”

“You don’t seem in a very celebratory mood for someone who defeated Victor and took the world champ title.”

“Of course I’m happy. I just have some things going on.”

Chris snickered and exaggerated a wink at him.

“Is that so? Care to go up to my room and tell me all about it?”

Yuuri sighed in irritation. Of course he was well aware of the man’s public attitude, but he wasn’t in the mood to play along with it. Besides, he knew better anyway.

“I don’t think your partner would enjoy that. How is Masumi? Has he passed the bar yet?” Yuuri asked frostily, before walking off. He knew that Chris had met his partner quite young and that they had been together for some time. Despite his playboy attitude, he was quite devoted to his partner… well, and to his cat.

Any other day, Yuuri might have played along, but not then, and not there. His walk turned into a run by the time he reached the hallway.

He fled out of the banquet hall, uncaring that he was supposed to stay there and pretend to have fun. His feet carried him down the stairs and out of the hotel entirely. It was just by a river – Yuuri didn’t remember the name – and he walked along the water’s edge for a little.

The freezing air calmed his mind a little, but it couldn’t do anything about the feelings that burned within him. It had been months – nearly an entire skating season – and he was no closer to being able to get over what happened to him than he had been.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to get over it.

Sitting at the concrete edge running along the black river water, he allowed himself his tears.

He had DIED. He had felt himself die, and as much as he hadn’t wanted it to be the end, he also hadn’t wanted the nightmare he was in now.

It wasn’t right.

He hadn’t done anything to deserve the suffering he was experiencing.

A huffing sound alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t alone. Someone was approaching him – he could hear their laboured breathing as the sound of their rapid footsteps approached.

“Yuuri!”

Victor. Of course it was.

It was always Victor.

“Why are you here?”

“Never mind that! Yuuri, I need to ask you something.”

He half-turned to where Victor was standing, trying to catch his breath.

“What do you want to ask?”

Yuuri decided to answer the question, in hopes of being left alone again. He was the world champ, surely, he was allowed to mourn in peace for just one night?

“How did you know the name of Chris’s boyfriend? And his… his job?”

Yuuri froze.

He hadn’t realised Victor had overheard him.

“Chris told me.” He offered, hoping Victor wouldn’t know any better.

“No! No, he didn’t. I asked him, after you left. He didn’t tell you. He hasn’t told ANYONE! I spent ages in Sochi trying to get him to tell me and we’ve been friends for years. He wouldn’t tell me anything. HOW did you KNOW?”

Yuuri scrambled on his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I… guessed? Or maybe I read it somewhere, I don’t remember.”

Victor shook his head, a determined expression in his face.

“No. Chris hasn’t told anyone. Yuuri Katsuki… I want to know what’s going on!”

He took a step back in the face of the sudden conviction in Victor’s face. The man was determined to find out the truth – a truth Yuuri couldn’t possibly tell the other man. He just couldn’t.

“Victor, I-”

The Russian shook his head.

“Tell me what’s going on, Yuuri!”

A whimper was the only sound that tore itself from his throat.

“Yuuri!” Traces of anger were starting to colour Victor’s tone, and Yuuri was panicking more and more.

“I’m sorry! I can’t… I can’t tell you. I just can’t.”

Victor huffed.

“Of course you can! I’ve been thinking this for a while, Yuuri Katsuki, but there is something odd about you. I thought it was just in my head for a while. With everything that’s been going on, it was so easy to ignore, but…”

Yuuri took a reflexive step back.

“What do you mean, odd?”

Victor shrugged.

“You have this… calmness. Like nothing that happens ever comes as a surprise. You know things that you shouldn’t know. Things you can’t know. You knew what I would enjoy doing before I did. You can predict the outcome of skating events. You knew something Chris kept even from his parents. I want to know how.”

A new batch of tears welled up and started dripping down his cheeks.

“V-Victor…”

“No, I don’t want excuses. If my friendship, if I mean anything to you, you’ll tell me the truth!”

He flinched as if Victor had hit him. The man might as well have – it was cheap, using their connection like that, and he was fairly certain the other man realised it too… not that he backed down or took it back.

What choice did Yuuri really have?

“Do you… believe in magic?”


	9. Chapter 9

The sound of the water rushing past them was nearly deafening in the sudden silence between them.

“…Magic?”

Yuuri winced.

“Well…”

Victor held up a hand to silence him.

“No, wait. Let me answer.”

He watched, apprehensively as Victor straightened up and stepped closer. He had nowhere to run – a few more steps back and he’d be falling into the river. Victor was blocking the path back to the hotel, and he had no idea what was in the other direction if anything.

He waited for Victor to continue.

“No, Yuuri I DON’T believe in magic. I also don’t believe in reading people’s minds, in knowing the future before it happens, or in soulmates. I don’t believe in ANY of that. I believe in things that I can see, things that I can hear. Things that make sense. I believe in training in order to get better at skating, and I believe in mastering things by practicing.”

Yuuri felt himself shrink back from Victor’s serious tone.

“Here is the thing though… I have SEEN you do things you shouldn’t be able to. Your skating? It was like night and day, the difference in skill between the qualifiers and the finals at the GP. It’s impossible to get that good that fast. It’s also impossible to know things before they happen. Yet, I’ve seen you do impossible things.”

Victor’s fingers on his shoulders tightened.

“So, to summarise, no, I don’t believe in magic. I do, however, believe in the things I’ve seen you do.”

Yuuri took a deep breath, steadying himself. He had no way out – no other choice but to tell him. He’d been careless enough, that Victor had caught on. And maybe, just maybe, he’d been that careless deliberately.

Part of him was desperate for the relief that the truth would bring… even if it destroyed everything.

“I’m… I don’t actually know if it’s magic, or something else. I have no idea what caused this.” His voice was clear, steady. Something in him, some hidden part started to uncurl within him.

“Okay?” Victor’s grip loosened from painful to merely uncomfortable.

“I… I’m Yuuri Katsuki, but I’m not 23 years old. And… I died. In a car accident. A car accident in 2029.”

Victor let go of him entirely and sank to the floor, clearly shaken, but Yuuri wasn’t done. Now that he’d started talking, there was no way he could stop – not until the other man knew everything.

“I died in a car crash with my husband of over a decade, though he survived, as far as I know. I’m not sure. I woke up afterwards… in my hotel room in Sochi. I could remember everything that had happened, but nobody else could.”

He paused for a moment, trying to order his thoughts.

“I was stranded in what was, to me, the past. I was inconsolable. Nobody remembered what I could, and yet there I was. I was… I’ve been skating for over thirty years. Of course I was better than everyone else. I had to make new routines because I couldn’t remember the old ones. I ended up beating you because… I was desperate to change things. I knew how things were supposed to happen, and I didn’t want them to happen the same way.”

Victor nodded, still sitting on the ground and gaping up at Yuuri.

The burden in Yuuri’s chest was lightening more and more – he was reaching a point where he wanted the man before him to know the truth, to know everything.

“I ended up changing some things. Others I couldn’t change. My dog still died. Old age. I got my sister to send me some videos though, which I didn’t the first time around. Things like that.”

“So… you… really did know things. Before they happened. You knew about Chris’s boyfriend because…” Victor trailed off – Yuuri was happy to fill in the blanks.

“Because a few years from now, they are going to get married in Lucerne, and I was there as a guest.”

“Wow.”

Victor gulped – Yuuri could just about make out the emotions warring in the man’s face. Which reminded him…

“Hey, let’s go back to the hotel. We can talk on the way.”

He stretched out his hand to the Russian, his heart practically singing when, without a moment’s hesitation, Victor took it and let Yuuri help him up. He’d half-worried the other man might shy away from him, fear him even.

He didn’t.

“So, you’ve experienced all of that and then you just… woke up here? In your younger body?”

“Yes. There are scars I had that are gone. Things like that.”

The other man hummed.

“And what about other things? People? Who else do you know about?”

Yuuri chuckled weakly.

“Yuri Plisetsky broke both your and my records and ended up one of the best skaters of his generation. He befriends another skater named Otabek in a few years. Ah… Yakov and Lilia get married again, but they fight just as much. Mila has a lovely baby boy…” He tried thinking of what else he could tell Victor as they walked.

“Makkachin… even though she’s quite old, she lives a few more years. My best friend Phichit goes on to be the top skater in Thailand and eventually moves from pro skating to choreographing ice shows. Cao Bin retires after this season. Chris still skates two more, Georgi retires after the next one.”

He broke off, unsure what else to tell the man.

They walked in silence for a while, almost until the hotel was back in sight. Yuuri hadn’t realised how far he’d gone.

“What about you? When you said you lost your lover…”

Yuuri flinched.

“I lost my husband. I didn’t mean to tell you the truth when you asked me how long I’d been with him. 16 years… but we weren’t childhood sweethearts. We met when I was 22, got together when I was 23.”

“So… you’re supposed to meet him now? Have you? Is he in this world as well? Are you going to get back together?”

Yuuri tried to shake off the pain that inevitably came when he thought about things like that.

“I’ve met him, yes. But no, I’m not getting back together with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Victor… he’s over a decade younger than me now, at least mentally. I remember our life together, and he only knows a few months. It’s not… how could I start something with him? It would just feel like I’d be cheating on him.”

To his surprise, Victor gave a slow nod.

“That… makes sense, I think. But don’t you think maybe your lover would want you to be happy? Even if it’s with someone else? Or himself if he had, like, amnesia? I think I would want that for my partner.”

Yuuri wanted to both smack him and hug him.

“Maybe he would want that. Probably, to be honest, but I just can’t. Every time I look at him, I remember the things he doesn’t. Our wedding. The house we bought. The poodles we adopted. The skaters we coached together. I can’t just… move on and forget, nor can I be with someone who doesn’t remember that.”

Victor froze mid-step.

“… Poodles? You… and your husband love poodles too?”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat – had Victor figured out the part he’d left out? The identity of his husband? The man had taken everything relatively in stride so far, but Yuuri wasn’t quite sure how he’d take that.

“Yes? Who doesn’t love poodles?”

Victor shook his head.

“No, no, you’re right. I’m sorry. I was just thinking if you already had a poodle-loving husband you have all those memories with, there’s no way you’d be interested in someone as boring as me.” Victor laughed, clearly trying to play off his words as some kind of joke.

Yuuri hated it, but what could he do without outright telling Victor the last of his secrets?

“What… about me? When do I retire?”

He smiled weakly at his Russian friend.

“Well, you took a break after this season, and then went on to compete in two more. So… overall, three years from now.”

“Why… did I take a break?”

Yuuri glanced over at the other man.

“You know the answer to that yourself.”

The Russian shrugged.

“Well… yes. I’ve been thinking about retiring.”

“Mh. You won another Grand Prix after you came back.”

“And after that…?”

Yuuri chuckled.

“Bronze. Beaten by me in first, and Yuri Plisetsky in second.”

Victor made a noise fairly close to a grunt.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I bombed the Sochi Grand Prix. Came in over a hundred points after you. Didn’t even qualify for World’s here. I tried to retire, but eventually changed my mind and skated another season. I won silver, after Plisetsky. Overall… I won a few more Grand Prix Series, and a couple of World Championships as well.”

“Wow! Impressive, Yuuri!”

They were back at the hotel. Leaving the cold night air for the warmth of the lobby made his glasses fog up quite a bit.

“Yes, well… does that mean you believe me? Everything I’ve told you?”

Victor hummed, thinking about it for a second.

“Well… it sounds like nonsense, you have to admit. But… I’ve witnessed you knowing things you couldn’t. I’ve seen… proof, I suppose. So yes, I believe you, I think.”

They resumed their walk towards the elevator.

Spontaneously, Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck, holding him in a too-tight hug.

“Thank you…” He whispered to the other man, emotion choking him up a little. “I haven’t been able to tell ANYONE since I’ve come back. It feels so… good to finally be able to say it out loud. Thank you for believing me.”

“Of course, Yuuri.”

The ding of the elevator arriving startled them apart. A little sheepish, they both got on and pressed the buttons for their respective floors. Yuuri had to get off first. He couldn’t even begin to think of something to say to Victor, so he settled for a mumbled good night in Russian just before the elevator doors closed again.

He made it all the way to his room, closing the door behind himself before he started choking up again. The relief he felt at having told Victor the truth, or at least most of it, was almost a physical weight off his shoulders. He flopped backwards onto the bed, emotions ravaging through him like a storm.

The sound of knocking – frantic knocking, actually, tore him from his feelings. He stumbled up and back over to the door.

Victor was standing on the other side, breathing hard. He looked like he'd run.

“Yuuri! I… have one more question!”

“What is it?”

“What was your husband’s name?”


	10. Chapter 10

Wordlessly, he opened the door further, to let Victor step inside.

He sat back down on his bed, waiting for Victor to catch his breath a little before answering. When it looked like Victor had calmed down, Yuuri steeled his resolve until he was finally able to reply.

“His name was Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov.”

He wasn’t sure what sort of reaction he’d expected from Victor, but it wasn’t the giant tears that were rolling down his cheeks as soon as he’d stopped talking. He was familiar with Victor’s tears – he’d seen them more than once, after all.

Quietly fishing for tissues from the bedside table, he handed them to the other man.

“You… and I? We were married? We adopted dogs? Coached together?”

Yuuri nodded, too emotional for words.

“And… and all this time it was ME that was reminding you of what you lost?”

He nodded again, wincing a little.

“And… and you rejected me because you have feelings for ME?”

Ah. He really should have expected that to come up again.

“Well… I told you. It’s… you look the same, but Victor, I remember us having a life together! I moved into your flat with you. Eventually, we bought a house in the suburbs of St. Petersburg together. We got married in Hasetsu, and we had a month-long honeymoon in the Maldives because you insisted on staying in one of those hotels on stilts in the water! I remember all of it, and you… don’t. You never experienced it. You’re the same man I met at the GP in Sochi so many years ago, but me? I’m the one that’s different now.”

His words rung in the air even after he’d stopped speaking. He hadn’t realised he’d raised his voice until he was done, and Victor was staring at him wide-eyed.

“Yuuri…”

“No! The reason I know where things in your flat are? The reason I knew where you wanted the stuff in your living room? I just suggested putting it where it was when I first moved in with you there. I know where you keep your potato peeler!”

Victor blinked in confusion.

“I have a potato peeler?”

“Yes! It’s at the back of the cutlery drawer! It’s pink, and honestly hideous, and probably still in its wrapper, but it’s there! I know things like that. I know all of that, and you don’t know anything about me! It’s not fair!”

“Oh, Yuuri…”

The other man sounded a little breathless, and before he could say anything else, Yuuri found himself tackled to the bed, their mouths locked together in a sudden kiss.

He was completely frozen by how it felt – the same way it always had when he kissed his Victor. For a moment – a long moment – he forgot everything that had happened between them. There was just him and the love of his life, together, the way he knew it was meant to be.

Nothing else mattered – not until Victor drew back and it all came crushing back down on him.

He gasped in shock, unable to move, be it further away or closer.

In front of him, Victor was blushing a very fetching shade of pink.

“I’m sorry Yuuri, I just couldn’t help myself. I didn’t mean to-”

He waved him off.

“No, erm, it’s okay. I’ve never… kissed anyone other than my Victor. I guess… I guess it’s fine? You’re Victor too…”

He groaned. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

To his surprise, Victor sat down by his side quietly. The mood in the room had changed completely – it had gone from tension to an almost too-quiet tranquillity.

“There is something I need to know, Yuuri.”

“Mh?”

“You still love the me from your world, yes?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you understand that he and I are the same person?”

“Victor… I believe that our experiences make us who we say we are. And this version of you and I… we haven’t experienced the same things. I’m so sorry.”

Victor barked out a sharp curse in Russian, before running his hands through his hair.

“What if… what if I told you that we have more in common than you think?”

Yuuri turned his head – once again, an irrational hope that Victor remembered surged up within him, only to be squashed ruthlessly. No. That wasn’t what Victor meant.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about magic, Yuuri.”


End file.
